Sparkle Laundromat and Carwash was looking for a fulltime detailer. The manager, Andy MacDuff, a burly man with a nubby cigar clenched between his teeth, appraised me up and down, something I had gotten used to by that point.

“Being a detailer ain’t no work for a woman,” he intoned. “Those skinny arms of yours wouldn’t last half a day. Besides, what the hell do y’know ‘bout detailing a car?”

“Try me,” I answered.

He grunted, then switched the cigar to the other corner of his mouth. “Alright . . . what towel do use for windows?”

“Microfiber.”

He seemed taken aback by my answer. Then he collected himself.

“For the wash?”

“Sheepskin.”

“Waterless or water?”

“Light water. Dry washes can damage the paint.”

“What kind of soap?”

“PH neutral, ultra-suds.”

“Sealant or wax?”

“Neither. A ceramic coating will give you the most UV protection and durability. But before applying the ceramic, wipe down the car with a clay bar under shade to get rid of as much contaminant as possible.”

MacDuff grunted and switched the cigar back.

***

Rita opened the door with an expectant look.

“Well?” she asked.

“I start on Monday!” I screamed.

Rita hugged me tightly, and we both jumped and screamed loudly, which brought the neighbors running in.

“She starts on Monday!” Rita yelled, which started another round of jumping, hugging, and screaming that quickly turned into an impromptu celebration with music and food and dance.

In the middle of it all, as we were watching and clapping along to Mr. Tran and Rita giving us a rousing performance of the foxtrot, I looked over at Arlen, and I caught his glance. He smiled and raised his glass to me, and when he did that, I felt something stir deep inside me that I had once believed long dead.

Or it could’ve been the burnt torta. I wasn’t sure. Whatever. I didn’t have time to be thinking about any of that anyway. Now that I had a job, I had to move into my own place. But before I could do that, I needed to pay a visit to the ghost upstairs.

When all the guests had gone, and I could hear Rita snoring softly in her room, I snuck upstairs to the third floor, barefoot and in my pajamas. Like the other floors, this one had four apartments, two of which were used as storage rooms. I stepped gingerly down the mahogany hallway till I stood in front of apartment 3B. The door was locked, but I gave the knob a firm twist, and the locking mechanism broke with a snap.

The place was exactly how the Arlinskys had left it. The sofa, the armoire in the corner, the dining table… everything was now covered with a fine layer of dust.

Some of the pictures had clearly been knocked over or flipped to face the wall. I went to them and turned them over, one after the other… I noticed that only the pictures with people in them had been turned.

She’s here, I thought.

When a ghost is in hiding, it’s hard to detect their dark Ethyr—even for a demon—but I sensed the hint of it in the air, pricking my skin like an electrical charge. It had sensed my presence, too. I was usually good about hiding my dark Ethyr, but I must’ve gotten careless living there with the humans the past few weeks. I told myself to be more careful and continued to wander around the apartment until I got to the bedroom. The Arlinskys had left it a mess after they hurriedly packed up whatever they could and rushed out.

The dark Ethyr is stronger in here, I thought, but not as strong as… I looked up.

The attic.

Going into the closet, I saw a hatch in the ceiling. Stepping on some suitcases, I reached up and unlatched it. Suddenly, it swung open, and the attic ladder unfolded loudly as it straightened to the floor. I held my breath, thinking that the sound had surely woken up the other tenants, but there was only silence.

I looked up into the pitch darkness.

Being a demon who can travel between dimensions has its perks—near immortality, superhuman strength, elemental manipulation, and something that can come in real handy at times like this: night vision.

I climbed into the attic, and after I blinked a few times, the darkness brightened into a bluish tint that highlighted everything in that cramped space. I could see the rafters, the wooden crates, the forgotten furniture… and the thing crouching in the corner.

She was a lanky ghost with long yellow hair, wearing a flowing dress—the kind women wear in those movies where they sit in gardens, sipping tea and smiling coyly at men in top hats.

“It’s time for you to go,” I said.

She tried to burrow deeper into the corner.

“You’ve been wandering long enough. The Sacred Realms are waiting for—”

She screamed, pivoted towards me with bloody fangs, and leaped.

“This place is mine! Mine! MINE!!”

Ghosts have very low dark Ethyr. You would have to send hundreds of ghosts to the Vanishing to absorb the same dark Ethyr that even the weakest of demons possess. Because of this, ghosts have very little power to interact with their environment. Rattling a few chains, knocking over a vase or two, or turning around a few picture frames is all that they can really manage.

So when she leaped at me with a burst of light as if a giant flare had been lit, I knew it was all for show.

I raised a hand and suspended her in mid-air. She couldn’t move a single muscle. All she could manage to let out were a few pitiful squeaks.

“Now, are we gonna behave?”

The ghost blinked her eyes in fear and then nodded meekly.

I lowered her gently to the floor, and when all the smoke and flashes had faded, there stood in front of me the ghost of a young, pretty woman with a face delicately curved like a vase.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Beth,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Beth, it’s time for you to leave this place. You’ve wandered long en—”

“No!” she shouted. “I’m not leaving! This is my home! Do you hear me?! My home!”

Her eyes turned red, her teeth grew into fangs, and her hair writhed as if an electrical charge was surging through her.

I gave her a stern look, and she immediately reverted to the meek young woman.

“S-sorry,” she said. “Old habit.”

“Listen, Beth. I’m not going to send you to the Vanishing. I can show you how to get to the Sacred Realms. Or… I know an abandoned one-bath loft you can move—”

Before I could finish, she ran over to me, kneeled, and clutched my hands.

“Please, young miss!” she said. “Please don’t send me away! I-I don’t know why, but… I have to stay here. I just have to!”

There are three main reasons why ghosts are tied to the earthly realm: unrequited love, an unrealized dream, and… I spotted the dark red and purple bruising around her neck.

“Beth…?” I said uncertainly. “How… did you die?”

“I… I’m not sure,” she replied, but as she said this, her hand went subconsciously to her neck.

The third reason? It was something I knew all too well.

Vengeance.

***

Having a ghost as a roommate isn’t so bad. They don’t leave dishes in the sink or take up too much space, and chances are, they’re not gonna have too many visitors staying over the weekend. It took a little convincing to get Rita, Eliz, and the other tenants to help me move in because Beth had done such a thorough job of scaring the daylights out of them.

The way they walked into the apartment that first day, you would think they were stepping into a minefield. But soon enough, apartment 3B was abuzz with everyone dusting, wiping, painting, and sorting until everything had a sheen to it. Even Arlen came in between deliveries with pink peonies for the window boxes and burgundy ones for the indoor planters, giving new life to the place.

“The gravel is to provide better drainage,” he was explaining as he gently tamped down the soil, “and the mulch on the top helps to retain the moisture.”

Mr. Tran came by later, and his face lit up when he saw the flowers.

“Ah!” he said. “Mẫu đơn! The flower of love and passion! In my culture, young lovers would give these to those they cherished in their hearts! Did you know that, Arlen? What am I saying? You know everything about flowers. Of course, you knew it! Ah… it brings back memories of my youth.” He chuckled, and with a smile on his face as if reliving some distant memory, he walked away.

Arlen, on the other hand, just kept nervously fidgeting with the flowers and avoiding my eyes.

All the while, I could sense Beth in the attic, cowering until night fell.

I’m not saying ghosts are perfect roommates. Like sometimes, in the middle of the night, I would open my eyes and see Beth floating above the bed, staring down at me. Other times, I would hear her in the attic, gasping for breath as if being choked. I would rush up the ladder and see her thrashing on the floor, her hands outstretched as if trying to push away some unseen assailant.

I would run to her, grab her face, which was etched with terror, and try to bring her back.

“Beth! Beth! It’s okay! There’s no one here! Just breathe. Breathe…”

She would meet my eyes, tears streaming down her face, and begin to breathe in spasmodic gasps. Then she would collapse into my arms and cry.

I had talked about the previous tenants with the property manager, Mrs. Van Zilstern, a woman of sixty who was fond of costume jewelry and chain-smoking unfiltered cigarettes.

“I’ve been here for thirty years,” she had said in her raspy voice, “and I don’t remember a Beth ever having lived here.”

***

I knew then that I had waited long enough. Being around Rita, Mr. Diaz, Mr. Esso, Mr. Tran, Davit, Eliz… and even Arlen had had the effect I’d most feared when I sat down at their table so many months ago.

I was beginning to remember what it was like to be human.

So I decided. No more scrolling through my phone till the sun breaks. No more telling myself, “Just one more episode of La Reina del Sur.” I even started keeping a diary of all the ice cream flavors I’d tried! That wasn’t who I was, not who I’d fought all those years to become.

I told myself that it would change that night, for that night, I would resume the hunt.